Three Weeks
by elilover2
Summary: "I need you to get Lahey to talk to me." Scott is given the task of bringing Isaac and Jackson together with a deadline of three weeks.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:**

**Jackson's a total douche and I like Isaac so I paired them together.**

**I don't own Teen Wolf or the characters and I'd be more likely to earn money off of selling my body than off of selling this.**

**Who would buy it?**

**Anyway, this shall definitely switch between Scott and Jackson's POV's with an Isaac or two thrown in for good measure.**

**Also, this is AU (cause it's all human) and what not.**

Scott's POV

I'm grabbing my things from the locker room, Stiles having left a few minutes previously to make dinner for his dad, when a hand lands on my shoulder. I recognize the gesture as something only two people would do: Jackson and Coach. As Coach is in his office, the only candidate is Jackson, who I really don't feel like dealing with.

Unfortunately, Jackson is a lot stronger than me, and easily spins me around to face him. Surprisingly, he doesn't look like a threat, at least not an immediate one, but a bit nervous.

"What do you want, Jackson?" I ask and he looks over his shoulder, watching the rest of the team filters out the locker room. I can see Danny standing at the entrance, watching Jackson with an odd look on his face. It's not a look he would be wearing if Jackson was about to beat me up, so I relax a bit.

Jackson finally looks at me and I wait for what he has to say with a good deal of impatience. I could be at home doing something ten times more interesting than having Jackson Whittemore stare at me.

"You're friends with Lahey, right?"

I don't expect the question, which doesn't exactly give me the time to think about what I'm going to say.

"Uh, sort of?"

"It's a yes or no question, McCall." Jackson crosses his arms and I wince at his expression.

"I mean, I talk to him sometimes, but he's not really my friend. I mean, I consider him a friend, but I don't think he's really interested in friends." I babble a little and Jackson's face grows impatient. Finally, he smacks me upside the head, a painful reminder that I should stop talking. I'm not _scared _of Jackson, but he _is _a lot stronger than me.

"Whatever, I need you to get him to talk to me."

I don't immediately register what's been said because it doesn't even begin to make sense. Why the hell would Jackson want Isaac to talk to him?

"McCall, are you still with me?" Jackson is snapping his fingers in front of my face, a growing look of impatience on his face. I shake my head and run my fingers through my hair, nodding.

"Yeah, but why?"

"Why what, McCall?"

"Why do you want him to talk to you?"

Instead of insulting me, Jackson looks nervous.

"Reasons, ok?"

I don't know why, whether it's his face or just my brain finally catching up, but realization hits and I can't help but blurt out the first thing that comes to mind: "You want to fuck Isaac?"

Jackson's face turns red and he goes from not a threat to a definite threat in a few seconds. I barely move out of reach before his hand is reaching for what I assume is my throat.

"Shut the hell up!" He hisses and I can see Danny laughing by the door. This gives me a bit of confidence as I move a bit farther back, grinning broadly.

"I can't believe you want to fuck Isaac!"

"I never said that!"

"Dude, you didn't even have to." I tease and Jackson closes his eyes, breathing heavily. It's clear that he is about to say something painful.

"If I admit that I want to fuck Lahey, will you get him to talk to me?"

"No can do."

Jackson's eyes fly open and I jump out of reach again, banging against the lockers and squeezing my eyes shut. I wait for something to happen, a fist to connect with my face or something similar, but nothing of the sort does. After a few minutes I open my eyes just enough to see a very angry Jackson inches from me.

"What you mean?" His breath is in my face, not unpleasant but a bit too threatening for my comfort, and I quickly try to explain.

"I told you, we're not really _friends_."

"What, you can't become friends?"

"I guess, but he probably thinks you're a douche."

"Why the hell would he think that?"

"Because you're a douche?"

Jackson backs up and breathes out a heavy sigh, running a hand down his face.

"I need you to do whatever you can to get Lahey to talk to me, or else I'll make your life a living hell."

I consider the threat, knowing that it's very likely to become a reality, and shake my head.

"I'm sorry. I just don't think this is going to work."

"You mean you and your idiot friend can't come up with something? Anything?"

"You mean I can tell Stiles about this?" I ask disbelievingly and Jackson sighs.

"I don't care what the hell you do as long as Lahey is speaking to me in three weeks, got it?"

"Three weeks!?"

"Three weeks."

Before I can protest Jackson is halfway to the door, pausing to grab his things on the way out. He leaves with Danny, both of them talking animatedly about, I can only guess, what just happened.

"Fuck." I murmur and slip my bag over my shoulder, heading out of the locker room and into the bright sunlight. Even though it's nearing five, the sun is still blinding, a perfect summer day. School starts in, I note, exactly three weeks.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:**

**Ok, I have a partial reason for taking so long, which is the mere fact that I have a family that likes to take me on week long beach trips.**

**As for the rest of the time, well, I'm just friggin' lazy. **

**Sue me. **

**Anyway, I'm updating now :)**

**Oh, if I didn't say this, Jackson doesn't live right across from Isaac (Kay, bye)**

Jackson's POV

Ok, yes, I might want to fuck Isaac.

And yes, I have mentioned this to Danny.

And yet, he still insists on singing under his breath and, when we get in my car, not so under his breath. It's a song of his own invention, clearly, because it's vulgar and includes Isaac and I in positions I didn't even think were possible.

"Stop being a pervert, Danny." I command, even as we make it to his street. I really shouldn't be nice to him, especially when he's being an asshole. I should have ditched him in the parking lot, not at the end of his goddamn street. He smirks at me as I slow the car just enough, in case he decides to get even more annoying before his house.

"I'm not being a pervert, since you've probably been thinking about this for weeks." He counters and I scowl at him, braking in front of his neighbor's house. His neighbor, a creepy middle aged man who likes to go shirtless, waves at us cheerfully. Danny waves back, but I just look away, because I have no reason to be nice to the guy in the first place.

"Come on, just admit it." Danny teases, grabbing his bag from the back, "You even bullied Scott into doing all the dirty work. Well," He grins wickedly, "Not _all _of it."

"Get out of my car." I retaliate and Danny laughs, because he knows he's won. I can't help the smile that crawls across my face as he waves, starting a slightly less explicit song up as he heads towards his front door.

"Isaac and Jackson sittin' in a tree." He winks at me before disappearing, peering out the window so I can at least pretend the middle finger I point in his direction is effective. His neighbor laughs at "teen antics" and tells me to "drive carefully" which I respond to by gunning it down the street. My only wish is that I saw the guy's face, but I'm already half way gone by the time he catches up, at least that's probably true.

At home, I have a not leaving me in charge for the night and the instructions to order something for dinner. The note is scrawled in the sickly sweet handwriting of middle aged women who pretend to be mothers, with loops and swirls in all the right places. It doesn't mention a location or an approximate home arrival time, but it does list the numbers of several food places, which I figure is good enough.

"Pizza it is." I mumble and feel around for my phone, swearing at the realization that I left it in the locker room in my haste to catch McCall and, admittedly, my haste to catch Isaac leaving. He always changes in the showers and disappears before the rest of us even start to get ready, which makes eye contact and accidental skin contact that much harder.

Because Isaac is a harder prospect than anyone else at Beacon Hills; girls and boys alike. I have people falling at my feet, and just one conversation can lead to a girl melting on the spot, but Isaac never so much as breathes a sigh in anyone's direction. If he's ever had a crush or, at the least, wanted to fuck someone, he's hidden it well. Part of me argues that this is because he never _talks_, but another part argues that he's just never been interested in anyone.

Except for, of course, that one time he asked out Lydia Martin.

I remember that because it was right before _I _asked out Lydia Martin, with better results. She didn't melt, really didn't even flinch, but she didn't pin me down with a "You're kidding, right?" look and laugh.

At the time, I laughed at her conduct. When you live on top, you learn to enjoy the simple things, like bringing other people down. It isn't all popular kids are good for, but scaring smaller and lesser beings is a good way to ease stress. It's mostly why I harass McCall and Stilinski, other than the fact that Stilinski's got a big mouth.

Now, though, her behavior kind of annoys me.

Still, a deeper side of me feels that Isaac deserved it. He should have known better than to mess with Lydia Martin, an untouchable, and she was right to put him down.

That side of me is becoming less and less prominent with each time I spy Isaac in the hallway or in the cafeteria, because the more I watch, the more I think that Isaac really didn't deserve it.

I've never felt guilty, and I don't now, but something gnaws at me when I consider how he must have felt at that moment. He was embarrassed and sad and a lot of things, all thrown together. And he had to go through the rest of the day keeping it together, because the idiot decided to do it in the morning.

"Sexy idiot." I concede, searching for the house phone. I haven't used it in years, which makes locating it difficult. It turns out to be tucked into a corner of the kitchen, like it's trying to hide from the rest of the appliances. When I pick it up, I have to blow dust off the mouth piece before I can use it.

"Hello, may I take your order?"

"Yeah," I mess with a sheet of paper lying on the counter and place my order, not really listening as the girl on the other end rattles off specials and "deals" that are sure to make my night. She doesn't see bothered by the fact that I'm saying no faster than she can get the words out, probably because she's used to it.

"Will that be all?" She chirps, just as happy at the end as she was at the beginning, and I run a hand through my hair absentmindedly.

"Yeah."

"Alright, it should be there in ten minutes."

"Yeah, whatever." I place the phone back in its cradle and settle in to wait, picking out a movie with little intention of actually watching it and leaning back in the couch. I idly consider what Isaac might be doing or, more importantly, McCall. School starts in three weeks, and I would prefer to be well on my way to having Isaac as all mine before then.

"You better not fuck this up, McCall." I speak to the ceiling, "Or you will regret it."


End file.
